


To Love

by brightis



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Blood and Violence, Chicago (City), Dorks in Love, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, Past Character Death, Physical Abuse, References to Depression, Slow Burn, but they wont admit it, it's dark but not all dark i promise, kane is an asshole in this sorry, octavia is like 15 in this sorry, there's a lot of sexual tension, well slowish burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-04-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:34:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22774222
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brightis/pseuds/brightis
Summary: Clarke Griffin used to have everything: a picture-perfect family, a white picket fence... a future.Then she saw something she shouldn't have.Forced into the Witness Protection Program, Clarke must start her senior year of high school across the country with an entirely new identity. Vulnerable in the face of her own inner turmoil, she becomes an easy target for bullying - at school and home.Bellamy Blake used to simply be a set of labels: captain of the varsity lacrosse team, free-spirit, and notorious heart-breaker.Now he finds himself inexplicably drawn to this mysterious new girl in town who, despite her best efforts at remaining detached, begins to unearth his true nature.When two people are lost in a great big city, what's left to do except find each other?WARNING: This story contains explicit language, sexual content, bullying, mental illness, and abusive scenes.*read at your own risk"Maybe to love is to show them our ugly, to see how they'll react when they see how rotten and burnt our core is, and once they do, to wonder if they'll still find it in them to say, 'How absolutely lovely.'"--Jamie Delos Reyes
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 3
Kudos: 62





	1. Fake

**Clarke**

“Tell me about your father.”

It was clear that the cement floor had not been cleaned in a long time. Streaks of mud and grime were caked into its crevices and dust bunny families had multiplied in the corners.

The harsh fluorescent lights only contributed more to my already pounding headache. The unfriendly environment was nothing compared to the man sat across from me, however. Detective Callahan did not like me. That much was clear. My loss meant nothing to him – he saw the same shit every day – and right now I was being a whiny little pain in his ass.

“Eliza.”

I vaguely wondered how much longer until his impatience would turn into anger.

“Eliza!”

Whoop there it is.

“That’s not my name,” I mumbled, resting my forehead against the refreshingly cold metal table.

“It is now,” He spat. “Now, again, tell me about your father.”

I closed my eyes and tried to focus on my breathing, the irritating click of his pen, the buzzing of the lights overhead.

Callahan sighed.

“Clarke, you can’t go dark on me just yet. I need to know you’re getting this.”

It almost sounded like he cared.

I slumped back in my chair, sliding slightly as my satin pajamas lost their friction. I didn’t open my eyes.

“My father’s name was Alex Taylor. He wasn’t around very much when I was young. He worked in the trucking business and was usually away from home - a nice guy but not very smart. He died in an accident when he drove for fifteen hours straight. He was sleep-deprived. He hit a telephone pole. Died on impact.”

“And your mother?”

I clenched my eyes, willing the tears not to fall.

“My mother was Sarah Taylor, and she was a baker. She was kind and docile – a perfect housewife. She died of cancer when I was fifteen.”

“Any siblings?”

I shook my head.

“Where did you grow up?”

“California.”

“Where in California?”

_Shit._

“Uh, Fresno?”

“Goddamnit Clarke!"

I shot up, fixing my glare on him. “Oh, I’m so terribly sorry for forgetting my _fake_ birthplace Detective! I will strive to do better in the future. Next time I’ll be sure to memorize the names of my fake parents and fake schools and fake backstory and, well crap, I can’t forget the name of my fake neighbor's fake pet goldfish! Otherwise, they’d be sure to find me, huh?” My chest heaved and hot salty tears pooled into my mouth.

Callahan just stared at me, unfazed.

“There’s not gonna be a next time Clarke. You’re leaving tonight, on a red-eye.”

My heart jumped into my throat.

“What?”

“Oh, are you done with your little temper tantrum now? Cuz if you don’t know your shit then they really will find you, Clarke. Their reach is extensive, and we can only do so much. Do you hear me?”

“Don’t patronize me,” I said in a daze, sitting back down. “I’m not a child.”

“Then stop acting like one. You’re stronger than this, stronger than you know. If I’m wrong, then you might as well curl up in a ball and give up right here, because they’re never gonna stop looking for you. It’s our job to always stay one step ahead of them. It’s yours to not turn around and sprint straight into their arms,” He explained. “Just cooperate, that’s all I’m asking.”

As he spoke, I studied his face. The dark circles under his eyes indicated his exhaustion. His salt and pepper hair peeked out from under the black cap he always seemed to wear. Worry lines and an unshaven beard made him appear much older than he probably was.

“When do we leave?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! I'm seventeen so please bear with me. I started this as a story with original characters, but I like Clarke and Bellamy so much that I feel like they could do this story justice. There will still be some OC's (like Callahan) but also a lot of characters from the show. I hope you guys like this first chapter! I will try to update every Wednesday and Saturday from now on. Constructive criticism is always appreciated.
> 
> This story has a complex storyline that will likely span over many chapters and I'm aiming to finish (unless everyone hates it). I also suck at time management so be patient with me, please.
> 
> Thank you so much for taking time out of your day to read this :)
> 
> Please do not take my ideas or writing and pose them as your own material (don't know why you would, I'm trash, but still).
> 
> * * * *
> 
> This book or any reciprocating parts of this book may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without the written permission of the author.
> 
> This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
> 
> To Love. Copyright © 2020. All Rights Reserved.


	2. Numb

As we descended through the thick layer of clouds, apathy followed.

I was turning grey like the winter sky - indifferent and uncaring. Numbness filled me to the brim - a jet- black cocktail - but the reprieve was a blessing. The constant desolation that'd plagued me for the past month was suddenly gone, replaced with nothing. Glorious, glorious nothing.

I sat still, waiting with bated breath as I anticipated it's swift return. Vaguely, I acknowledged that this was probably not the healthiest coping mechanism, but the thought passed. Numbness left no room for self-reflection.

Glancing at the figure slumped next to me, I prepared for a familiar pain to shoot through my stomach at the sight of his complexion, too much like that of my fathers. Nothing came.

My uncle's eyes were closed but I knew he wasn't asleep. We'd both been running on fumes for days now. Plus, his breathing was too sporadic. He always did hate flying.

A jostle went through our cabin as the wheels touched down. My uncle lifted his head, meeting my gaze.

Expecting the kind eyes I've always known, my heart nearly stopped at his cold stare. Before I could think of anything to say, he turned away, leaving me eye level with his lon brown hair. An ache began to spread through my chest, cautioning me that the pain wasn't really gone at all. Just hiding.

_He can't even look at me._

I shoved the pain down and locked it away, leaving it to fester in a corner of my psyche.

"We've arrived at the Chicago, Illinois National Airport! The current time is 6:56 am and the temperature is 42℉. You may now turn on your cellular devices-"

I quickly tuned out the flight attendant's chipper voice.

When the "fasten seat belt" sign finally blinked off, a rustle of activity swept through the cabin. We'd been flying for nearly eight hours and the whole flight looked as stiff and exhausted as I felt.

I gathered my things with mechanical movements.

I was about to start at a new school, in a new state, in a new house, with a new name. I'd always hated anything new. The me from a month ago would've been crippled with anxiety at this point. I let out a shaky breath.

 _Feeling is not an option, Clarke_.

The mantra echoed in my head as we stepped onto the boarding bridge. I was _not_ the me from a month ago.

"Have a nice day," An air stewardess squeaked, looking at me with a too-wide grin.

The duffel bag on my shoulder felt heavier with every step. With my thoughts drowned out by the roar of the airport, I let my gaze hold onto the marble floor, which eventually became asphalt, then a taxi's leather seats, a sidewalk, and finally some brick steps.

I guess I was expecting something small and quaint - a quiet little corner of a quiet little cul-de-sac on the outskirts of a quiet little city. It was what I'd always known.

Instead, a monolith of an apartment building stood in front of me. Vines climbed into and out of the brick walls, twining themselves around a fire escape far above. It was far from dilapidated, but it certainly looked as if it violated, like, all of the health codes.

From a quick survey of my surroundings, it was clear this city was nothing like the suburbs I'd grown up in. It was anything but quiet. A constant stream of traffic and headlights sped past us. I glanced at a needle on the narrow porch and winced at the stench of urine. Graffiti lined the opposite alley to an excess; I couldn't tell what color the original walls were. Home, sweet home.

A sudden and deep voice startled me out of my observations. "I have a meeting at the Department of Corrections," my uncle said, "to... follow up on some things." He scratched at his beard. I shuffled my feet, trying to focus on anything other than the man in front of me and the weight of his words: the acrid smell of sewer gas and stagnant water on my tongue, the whine of an ambulance in the distance–

"Dinner's on you." His bitter tone chaffed at my ears. I only nodded in recognition.

As his taxi pulled away, I lifted my head to the white-grey sky, allowing myself to revel in the morning mist.

_Feeling is not an option._

With one quick movement, I entered the building.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the length I'd like most of my chapters to be, but let me know if you'd rather have longer chapters with longer wait times or shorter ones with quicker updates.


	3. F*ck

** Bellamy  **

Music thumped all around me and the bass quivered the floor beneath my feet. 

The room was bathed in hues of green to blue to purple to red then back to green again. To be honest I felt kind of nauseous. Usually, at this point in the night, I would either be blackout drunk, stoned or both. Unfortunately, I was Jasper’s DD for the next few weekends. I lost a bet. 

Given my sobriety, where the nausea was coming from was a complete mystery. A random girl began grinding on my front and I  actually pushed her away, beginning to feel too hot and too sweaty. Me...  __ _ I pushed _ a girl away... me. 

I made my way through the throng of people dancing in order to reach the kitchen. Maya’s house was so huge I nearly got lost. I let out a sigh of relief once I spotted my tall, gangly best friend and his date. 

“Jasper!” I yelled to be heard over the music. 

He turned and gave me a wide, slow grin. So, he was already smashed. 

“I’m heading outside for some air! I think I’m coming down with something.” I wiped my forehead dramatically. 

“Aight man.” 

We parted with our signature fist bump, and I made my way out to a balcony – one of many. Ah, the rewards of having rich parents. 

As soon as the cold city air hit my face, I began to feel better. I took a few seconds just gazing into the night, breathing deeply. 

_ In.  _

_ Out.  _

_ In.  _

My phone buzzed. 

**_ 17 Missed Calls  _ ** **_ from _ ** **_ Octavia Blake  _ **

My heart dropped. “Fuck.” 

She picked up on the first ring. 

“Bellamy!” She gasped out. 

“I’m so sorry I didn’t notice your calls. I’m at Maya’s but I’m leaving now.” I was already inside and quickly passing Jasper and Monty,  who were  making small  talk.

_ Octavia, _ I mouthed, pointing at my phone. 

Jasper only nodded in understanding. He knew I wouldn’t desert him unless it was  important . Besides, it’s not like Maya would oppose to Jasper spending the night. 

Still, I owed him one. 

“I’m sorry . Y ou don’t have to leave. You’re having fun,” She said, her voice wobbling. She pulled away from the phone, muffling her words. “God, what is wrong with me?” 

“Hey monkey, I was already on my way out. Parties aren’t really my thing.” 

She chuckled lightly.

To say I sped back home would be an understatement. I kept Octavia on the phone the whole ride,  speaking softly about meaningless things. I took two steps at a time once I reached the apartment building, cursing the broken lift, and barely registering that the vacancy sign  on a fourth-floor apartment had been removed. 

Octavia was sitting at our fold-out kitchen table when I walked in. I shut the door behind me and leaned back against it. She sniffled and stood up to hug me, wrapping her long arms around my torso. 

She was tall for fifteen. This meant, to my dismay, that she looked much older than she actually was - warranting lots of unwanted attention from older men. 

“What’s going on O?” I mumbled into her hair. 

“It’s so dumb.  __ _ I'm  _ so dumb.” 

She backed away and scrubbed at her eyes. When she pulled back, they were red and puffy. 

“I just can’t focus to save my life Bell.” She flopped back into her chair; papers were scattered in disarray in front of her. “I’ve got this huge exam tomorrow and it’s like my thoughts are moving through tar. I don’t know anything, and I want to drop the class, and I just hate high school! No one warned me it would be this hard.” 

“First of all, you are not dumb. Secondly, you’re not dropping the class. You know this material O. But you have a condition and it’s completely ok to be struggling. You’ve been dealing with concentration and memory issues for forever. We work around it.” I sighed and sat down on the opposite side of her. “Besides, you can just ask your teacher for an extension if you can’t get it tonight.” 

She looked down and twisted her fingers together. 

“You know how to handle this shit O, what’s really going on?” 

She groaned and banged her forehead against the table. 

“I don’t want an extension. No one else needs one!” She whined. 

_ Ah, now I see.  _

Octavia had to be the most stubborn, hard-headed little sister in existence. She had a fire burning in her that was rarely seen in other people. That’s what  had  made her diagnosis  all the more heartbreaking. She never wanted to be pitied for it though. On the contrary, it only made her more determined to beat out  all her competition. 

“Dude, high school is difficult enough without you being so hard on yourself. But I get it. I’ll help you ok?” 

The night was spent drowning in notes, textbooks, and flashcards. I wasn’t really the best at school but at least I could help to keep her on track and motivated. 

I had just turned to grab some water and when I turned back, she was knocked out. I chuckled and reminisced about the times when I used to be able to carry her to bed. 

It took a while but eventually, I woke her up enough to shuffle to her room. At this point, my head was  pounding, and my eyes were heavy with fatigue. I still had one more job to do. 

My mom had the night shift working as a nurse. It was sort of an unspoken agreement that I’d have food for her when she got back home. 

By the time I had finished cooking and cleaning everything up, the city had already begun to wake. 

Bleary-eyed and dehydrated, I flopped onto my bed, ready to succumb to exhaustion.

M y alarm  decided to go off then. 

_ Time for school. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot believe I already screwed up my upload schedule. That's a new low, even for me. Anyway, I hope this long chapter makes up for it. Sorry I didn't have time to really go back and edit yet either. Thank you for all the amazing support so far! It made me cry :')


	4. Curly

Clarke 

My first day of school was nearly a week after our arrival in Chicago. Callahan had informed me it was a necessary time period that we could use to acclimate and grow accustomed to the city, while he set everything up at my new school. 

So much for acclimating. I’d barely left the flat at all. Kane, on the other hand, had spent his time God knows where. The sound of slamming doors and dirty dishes in the sink were the only indications of his presence. 

During my time alone, my only companion was my thoughts - completely unacceptable and a recipe for disaster. Instead, I occupied my mind with garbage tv and sleep. So much sleep. 

Still, I’d made a discovery during all my downtime: I hate the city. Everything about it. From the traffic, to the endless construction, to the cold - this place was not for me. And _o_ _h my_ _god_ , it was so cold. Even inside the building. If I was allowing myself to think, I might remember how my mom used to say to “quit my whining” while giving me a thin smile. But thinking wasn’t an option either. 

The first day of school fucking sucked. 

There used to a time when the prospect of new classes, and new teachers, and new friends excited me; a time when I’d have trouble going to sleep because of the anticipation flooding through me. Now, the only thing keeping me up was dread. 

I knew no one in this strange city. Everything seemed so very “other” to me. 

Has high school always been this loud? Have teenagers always been this obnoxious? Have these lights always been so goddamn bright? 

Finding the front office wasn’t too hard once Kane dropped me off (I’d almost welcomed the chaos of the lobby after the silent car ride). But that was the end of my good luck. The rest of the day was a blur of faces and names. Once, I got lost on my way to Calculus. My last school’s population wasn’t even half the size of Washington High School’s, so I quickly got turned around in the full hallways. As a last resort, I peeked my head into a classroom to ask a teacher where to go. I was greeted by an entire classroom of freshman faces turned toward me. 

The teacher was clearly in the middle of a lecture and he sighed at the interruption.

“Uh, yeah that’s on the third floor,” he rubbed his jaw. “Is someone willing to -” 

“Me! Me, I’ll take her!” 

A girl with long black hair shot her hand up, back straight like she had a rod down her spine. 

“Yeah, sure, go ahead.” 

My cheeks burned at the unwanted attention. Once she got walked over to me, she looped her arm through mine and began dragging me along, like we’d known each other forever. My stomach churned and I glanced down at where our arms connected. 

“Thank God you came when you did. Mr. Dechart’s class is beyond boring, I needed to get out of there.” She tossed her hair behind her. 

“Plus, I know how to get to Ms. Brown’s room with my eyes closed. My friend Lincoln used to take that class,” she explained, looking down and smiling bashfully. She shook her head, clearing it of whatever thought she was clearly having of her “friend” Lincoln. “Are you new here? We don’t get a lot of new blood to Washington, especially at this time of the year. Most of us are South Side born and raised baby.” She threw up a half-hearted gang sign and giggled. 

It was only when she got so quiet and I turned to look at her, meeting her expectant gaze, that I remembered she’d asked me a question. 

“Oh, uh yeah, I’m new.” 

“That’s cool. I don’t know how much you’ll like Calc though, Lincoln said...” 

I tuned her out, trying to get my bearings on the situation. Thankfully she hadn’t asked me any more questions about where I’d come from. At this point, I was so out of it I didn’t know what I’d blurt out. 

She wasn’t too awful at least. Did enough talking for the both of us. 

Soon enough we’d arrived at the classroom, only – I glanced at my dad’s watch, looking past the shattered face at the still functioning components – six minutes late. 

“I’m Octavia by the way.” The girl held out her hand. “Octavia Blake.” 

I smiled grimly. 

“Eliza Taylor,” I said, shaking her hand. 

My lips formed the words, but all I could think was - 

_Clarke. Clarke Griffin. My name is Clarke Griffin._ _My name is Clarke Griffin._ _My name is Clarke Griffin._

“Well, it was nice meeting you.” She smiled brightly, squinting her eyes. 

“You too.” 

And it was. She was obviously a cheerful spirit without a care in the world. Probably popular with everyone and living the high school dream, whatever that was. But her cheeriness was quickly draining my social limit for the day, so I slipped into class with a small wave. 

The rest of the day was much more lonely - something I welcomed with open arms. As long as I kept my head down and didn’t draw any attention to myself, I would be ok. I would be safe. Kane would be safe. 

“Yo, watch out!” 

I turned towards the source of the disruption, but not fast enough. 

My head shot back with the impact of something moving very fast. A sharp pain immediately bloomed on my forehead and I rocked back at the force of it. 

I had been spending my lunch period outside, sitting at a round table and enthralled in a book. Despite the chill in the air, the sun was out, filtering delicately between the branches above. Things were finally peaceful. That is until three boys had decided to use the quiet courtyard as their own personal playground. They were laughing and whooping as they played a game of keep-away with a lacrosse ball. I’d rolled my eyes at their antics but decidedly tuned them out in favor of Don Quixote, one of my father’s favorite novels and one of the only things I’d been able to take with me from home. 

That’s why, when I finally regained consciousness and the first thing I saw was the thick book coated in my spilled iced tea, my vision turned red. 

“Oh, fuck. Dude! I think she passed out!” 

“Shit. Shit, I’m so sorry.” 

The same voices from before called out from behind me and I whipped my head around to face them, my blood boiling. Unfortunately, my brain hadn’t fully recovered from jostling around in my skull and my vision went blurry. 

“Woah, woah, don’t move too fast. You might have a concussion.” One of the guys was reaching out to steady me. 

“Don’t touch me!” I screeched, swatting his hand away. 

“Ok, Ok.” The guy’s face came into focus as his voice remained calm and patient. He was dark-skinned with a fade and the beginnings of a beard. 

“I’m Nathan Miller. Can you tell me your name?” He spoke slowly as if talking to a child. 

I ignored his question to glare at the guy standing behind him, leaning awkwardly on his lacrosse stick. He had a buzzcut and a thin goatee – these were either seniors or puberty had hit them awfully hard. His serious face gave no indication of remorse, so I turned to the third one. 

At first, his face was in shadow, a halo of light illuminating his figure with the sun behind him – setting earlier in the midst of winter. But he quickly blocked it with his arms as he ran his fingers through his dark, curly hair. The look on his face was all that I needed. The culprit. 

“You,” I bit out. 

“I’m so sorry. That’s my bad. I-I was trying to see if I could make it in the trashcan.” 

I glanced to my left, the bin nearly three feet away. 

“You missed.” 

He gave a half-hearted grin. “I’m a bit out of practice.” 

I turned away from him to pick up my book. The cover was already warping, and liquid dripped lamely from the pages. 

“Oh, man. I’m really sorry.” 

My brain couldn’t comprehend the genuine apology in his voice. Instead, all I could think about was my father scanning its pages for the hundredth time at his desk. Him calling me over to tell me about a line or piece of dialogue he loved. 

“Look what you did!” I gestured wildly with my other hand. 

“It’s just water, right? It’ll dry.” He scratched the back of his neck. 

“It’s tea you dipshit!” 

The guy leaning on his lacrosse stick snorted. 

I was close to losing it and these meatheads were laughing at me. 

Curly Hair quirked an eyebrow up. 

“I’ll just buy you a new one, yeah? What is that Twilight?” His smug smile was my final breaking point. 

“It’s not replaceable asshole,” my voice cracked, and I spun around. Quickly, I began to gather my things. The guys were finally silent. 

_Feeling is not an option,_ I thought. _Especially not in front of these d-bags._

I sniffed and turned on my heel, ready to storm by them with at least a shred of dignity left. Before I could, Curly Hair touched my arm to stop me, his face full of concern. 

“Look, princess, I know I suck but-” He cut himself off, eyes widening in fright. “You’re bleeding.” 

I reached up to gingerly swipe at my forehead. My fingers came away red. 

“You should really go to the nurse,” Goatee added. 

“I can walk you if you want,” Curly offered. He almost looked sick. 

I leveled my gaze at him, hoping my fury was evident on my face. By the way he swallowed nervously, I’m guessing it was. 

“I don’t. Need. Your help.” I spoke through gritted teeth. 

With that I shoved past him, intentionally hitting his shoulder with mine, forcing him to move. 

_So much for keeping a low profile._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I suck! I'm the worst! Aaaaa! I'm sorry I've taken so long to upload another chapter. There's literally no excuse as I've been quarantined for nearly two weeks now. I can't say I had something else I was doing. HOPEFULLY, I will get off my ass during this unplanned break and create a bit more content for you all.


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